I, Four Eyes

I've just about started to get used to my glasses. After leaving them at home a few times and repeatedly misplacing the case, they're starting to take hold. I only need them for reading- years of crap lighting and small print resulted in killer head aches solved only be the specs- so they really did take a bit of adjusting.

And I'm not going to lie, I was mortified when it turned out I needed them. Mainly because I've got a small, round face that doesn't entirely suit specs, but also because the only ones that do suit me make me look shockingly like my friend Barney.

Still, I've been assured they make me look, and I quote, 'well more intelligent' so maybe they'll come in handy when I start teaching, I can fool the students into thinking I'm respectable. I'm telling myself my needing glasses is an accession into adulthood and the academic world I'm set to enter.

At, least, that's what it'll make me look like. Last week I went to get an essay back from one of the Processors I know pretty well know and we were talking about the fact that I'm finally taking things seriously. He's always been telling me I could get a First if I only put a bit more in, and this year I'm finally doing it. His words, as I left, were along the lines of this:

'See, I knew you could do it, you're good when you put your mind to it. But sometimes I do worry, some of the things you come out with, I just think- she's completely mad.'

Disclaimer- I'd like to point out that suggesting the benefits of life as a Moomin does not make a person crazy.

The Present Curse

There's been a fair few twenty first birthday's lately, most recently one of my closest friends, April. We've been friends since Year 9, when my moody self plonked down next to her science, so buying her a 21st gift made me feel pretty old.

But it also took over my life. Literally.

I decided I would buy her a book of quotes from her favourite writer, a penguin because of our jaunt to South Africa and a scrap book covering our eight year friendship. It turns out that I was unable to just stick in the pictures and be done with it, I had to cover everything with tissue paper, decorate it, make it beautiful and write witty comments under every photo.

It took my five days. Considering I can't cut in a straight line it was challenging to say the least, but she loved it. So we sat there, with our other long term bestie Natalie cooing over the past, and they pointed out that always give great presents.

Fantastic, right?

No, it's a CURSE. Because I have gotten myself a reputation for great presents, never ever will I be able to present a bath set or some chocolates on a birthday. I am doomed for the rest of my life to give well thought, meaningful and unique gifts.

WHAT HAVE I CREATED?

Oh, JJ Field...

Not only did you play Fred in Ruby in the Smoke and The Shadow in the North (I cried my eyes out when he died) but you are you're oh so lovely voice will never fail to please me as Mr Henry Tilney.

I would like to just have him sit and read to me. He's voice is half the attraction, I'll just have him follow me around talking to me in his deep voice. It'll be beautiful.

'Twas the Night Before Christmas'

So it's Christmas Eve- and there is in fact snow outside my window. Being as I am not the biggest fan of Christmas, the fact that it's rather festive outside does make the whole thing a little more enjoyable. I have to admit, this is the first Christmas in eight years that I've had a sprinkling of excitement about.

Now, there is one things I adore about Christmas: the cooking. And I actually am a little excited to eat my Christmas dinner- I think the fact that this is also the first year in ages I haven't spent the run up to the 25th serving so many roast dinners it made me sick just to look at mine on Christmas day. But it also means I get to do lots, and lots of cooking.

I love cooking, and Christmas is by far the most gluttonous day of the year, so I get to cook ridiculous amounts and not feel bad about it! I've made a chocolate and lime cake so far, and I'm waiting to see if my meringue comes out successfully enough to make a pavlova. I'm blogging because I needed something to occupy me while my tomatoes cooled down enough for me to peel them- I just burnt my hand on one, I'm not a patient chef you see!

So there we go, slight Christmas cheer for once! Maybe I'm coming full circle, so long teenage angst!

Happy Birthday, Jane dear

Happy 235th Birthday Miss Austen!

Sacrilige, I'm a day late. However, look, here's a picture of me looking thoughtful in front of Marlborough Buildings all Regency'd up. Plus it was completely acceptable as yesterday marked my last assignment before the end of term. Of course this meant I was required to go to Indie night, get drunk and twist my ankle.

Considering last year I slipped in someone's spilt drink, split my elbow open and spent the whole night in A and E, a twisted ankle is really nothing.

However, it's all done for now and I'm free to devote all my time to dear Jane and the wonderful Mr Peake. It's possible that I should be excited about seeing my family and friends, but considering that right now my entire life revolves around dead writers, you'll understand my glee.

It's two days until the end of term.

I have one last assignment.

I have no motivation whatsoever to do it.

God. Damn

Take me to the Hermitage

Due to my incapability to be at all organised or forward thinking in the basic aspects of life, I had to sleep on an opened out sleeping bag in lieu of a clean bed sheet. However, this was in some ways quite the discovery as, with some help from my new My Neighbour Totoro hot water bottle, the sleeping created some kind of heat/comfort cocoon that made it very difficult to get up this morning.

I believe that my dismay at having to leave this cocoon is what caused me to find all of humanity generally frustrating today. I'd like to point out that usually I have little issue with the human race, it's just that every now and then I suddenly feel like someone is running sandpaper down my back whenever somebody speaks to me, sits next to me or even looks in my general direction.

Sadly, I have through all my own fault broken my huge headphones, which tended to indicate to the rest of society that I am not to be spoken too. True, this has resulted in my being unaware of cars, puddles, lamp posts and other hazards, but at least no body had the audacity to talk to me. I have to say that my people avoiding was made far more difficult with only little Ipod headphones to provide me with the voice of the only man I can stand on such days: the beautiful Jesse Lacey.

Is it possible that my sulking about listening to Brand New mean that at 21 I am still a closet, moody emo kid? Possibly. However being just old enough to be a preprocessor of the Emo teen scene and my long standing adoration of Brand New makes it okay. Just.

I dream that Jesse and I will have a beautiful love affair. We will come together as two creative people, who understand each others souls. He will tell me all his deep and intelligent thoughts, and I will nod meaningfully and ponder them as I write my equally deep novels. We will live together in artistic, semi-solitary bliss. On days like this he will sing me his beautiful songs and I will dedicate my under-appreciated novels to him. We will produce children who will at the world with wise eyes and we will all live happily ever after.